


Promise

by TooRational



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl Dixon Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Jesus (Walking Dead) Needs a Hug, M/M, Post-Season 8 Episode 5, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reaction to the Rick & Daryl fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 16:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12821451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooRational/pseuds/TooRational
Summary: He lets Daryl back him into the side of the trailer and plays out this confrontation, whatever it is. If Daryl throws a punch, he can dodge; if he can't dodge, he can take it. Not the first time he got punched, won't be the last.Or: Daryl and Jesus post-8x05





	Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Rating for mature themes, normal human reactions to canon events and violence, and as always, language.
> 
> Posting now because I have a feeling Sunday's episode is going to be a killer and there are too many Thoughts about it in my head already, just from the tiny preview. Heart attack, heartbreak, whatever ends up happening, I'm not ready. :( Hold me, fam. <3

Daryl comes out of nowhere; strides long, muscles tense, expression somehow blank and upset at the same time. It's like watching dark clouds rolling in in the dead quiet that comes right before a storm, and the image is a weird contrast to the peacefully quiet sunset at Hilltop, people all but tucked in for the night.

Paul frowns.

Daryl seems to be searching for something. Someone? At Hilltop, there's not exactly a huge list of what or who it could be.

Paul steps forward, having accepted a long time ago that there's something about Daryl that will always make him want to reach out, comfort, try to help. The movement catches Daryl's eye and he changes direction abruptly.

Paul can feel the metaphorical hairs on the back of his neck stand up. So, Daryl's upset and looking for Paul? Is this the Sasha and Rosita situation all over again?

Daryl is coming in too fast and too close, and only the fact that Paul is _sure_ the man would never hurt any of his friends and family - including Paul, now - stops him from putting Daryl on his ass for a 'calm down time-out'.

He lets Daryl back him into the side of the trailer and plays out this confrontation, whatever it is. If Daryl throws a punch, he can dodge; if he can't dodge, he can take it. Not the first time he got punched, won't be the last. If he yells, Paul can probably get through to him once he's done and a bit more receptive. Daryl isn't unreasonable, just impulsive and hotheaded. Anything else can probably be dealt with.

Daryl pins Paul's shoulders to the wall, levels an inscrutable look at him, then leans down and presses their lips together roughly.

Paul can feel his eyes widen, shock like a thousand volts jolting him.

_What…?_

This isn't… They don't… Daryl's never…

Paul did, does, _god_ , he does, but…

_What the hell?_

Paul can't get his brain to make sense, too many thoughts jostling for dominance, too many different feelings and directions. _So warm so close scratchy beard soft lips feels good_ and on and on, in a circle, random and useless. His hands clutch at Daryl's waist reflexively, more for support than anything else, the mess in his head physically affecting his balance. Daryl's muscles spasm underneath Paul's palms, a weird sound escaping the back of his throat.

One thought finds its way to the forefront, flares in an urgent red glare.

_Something's wrong._

Daryl doesn't do stuff like this. Not out of the blue, not with Paul, and definitely not _surprise dramatic kissing_ , holy crap.

A rock drops into Paul's stomach so suddenly it's like a cold shower. If Daryl is this shook up, enough for his emotions to push his behavior so far out of character, it can only be something bad. Really bad.

Paul folds shaking palms around Daryl's face and pulls away, making sure to keep the other man as close as possible. He feels like he's in a mine field, a wrong move right now could shatter their relationship irreparably. And Paul doesn't want that, he wants to keep Daryl close and safe, he didn't even know how much he craved it until this very moment.

"Daryl," Paul whispers, "Daryl, hey, _hey_ , what…" his voice betrays him so he tries again, "What's wrong?"

Paul rests their foreheads together for a moment, then slides his knuckles down the side of Daryl's face, runs a palm down his arm. He tries anything he can think of to settle and calm the man down, keep him from running. An absurd scene from some movie about taming wild horses of all things comes to mind, and Paul sneaks a hand inside Daryl's leather jacket and strokes his side in a soothing, repetitive motion.

Daryl is shaking like an electrical cable in a storm, sparks almost visible to Paul. There's so much tension inside him it's just a matter of time and manner in which it will come out - violence or emotion.

"Talk to me, Daryl. What is it, what happened? Tell me, please," Paul says, as calmly as he can, which is not very fucking much.

Daryl finally meets his eyes, and the pain and confusion in them has swallowed everything else. Paul's breath stutters on an inhale.

One moment, two, and Daryl's face _crumples_ and he sways towards Paul helplessly, buries his face into his shoulder. Daryl's hands are clinging to the sides of Paul's leather duster so hard the leather squeaks. There's nothing Paul can do but pull him close and hug him tight, completely baffled.

What on earth _happened_?

It takes a few minutes for Daryl to calm down, and when he does he pulls away in an abrupt motion, hands swiping at dark-ringed eyes rapidly. Paul would love to keep the close contact but he's seen this before. Daryl will bolt if Paul insists.

"'S stupid," Daryl grates out, hands shoved firmly into his armpits.

"I'm sure it isn't, tell me," Paul says, daring to step closer and put a hand on Daryl's forearm. He has no plan, no idea on how to proceed if Daryl shuts him down.

Daryl bites his lip and mutters, "Got in a fight with Rick."

Okay… That doesn't sound so bad but…

Daryl swallows, then continues listlessly. "Punched him, almost choked 'im out. Almost blew us both up, too. Killed this guy we knew from when all this started, Morales. Had a gun to Rick at the compound, was a Savior, but we knew 'im, before. Killed some kid, too. He shot at us, Rick promised to let him go if he told us where the guns was. Tried to surrender after. Put a bullet in his skull."

If 'numb' had a tone and a body and a voice, it would be this. Head down, hair covering his face, voice flat. Daryl is narrating the events like they're a macabre grocery list, like they have no emotional impact at all. Paul's heart clenches painfully.

"I just… I wanna kill 'em all. Every single one, so there's no chance of 'em coming for us again. But _Rick_ , man, I… We ain't been in a fight since the beginning. I didn't wanna _kick his face in_ so bad since he left Merle handcuffed to a roof in Atlanta."

Daryl is picking up speed now, pulling further away and starting to pace. His body seems as stressed as his mind, every line pulled taut, close to snapping. It's eating him from the inside, all this, no matter how good a front he puts up.

"What the fuck am I doin'? I can't-- I know Rick's right, I _know_ that. I know we got a plan we gotta stick to. But those people, the things they did? I ain't ever gonna forgive and forget. I ain't. I _can't_."

The last word is a furious half-sob that cracks Paul's heart in two. He tries to respond, he does, but his head is a _mess_ , voice sticking in his throat like he's trying to speak through molasses. He's never heard Daryl say so many words at once.

"We gotta win this thing. We _gotta_ , there's no other way," Daryl mutters, more to himself than Paul. "So we kill 'em all, we make sure. We gotta do it, no matter who's in the way."

Daryl turns to face Paul, the flood of words seemingly dried out, and says in a broken, pleading tone, "Right?"

Paul can't put words together to _save his_ _life_ but he can't just stay silent either. Daryl would take it as horror or disgust, think that he's bad and wrong and worthless, and Paul can't let that happen. He'll never let that happen.

So he steps closer, taking Daryl's hands in his and clutching tight, and leans his forehead on Daryl's cheek. Trying to process everything Daryl just dumped on him will take a while, maybe even days and weeks, but there's no time for that now.

Paul ruthlessly takes everything he feels and thinks and stuffs it behind a wall, to deal with later. It means his nightmare material just got quite a boost but that can't be helped. Falling apart is useless so Paul focuses on what needs to be done, and how.

Words finally unglue themselves from his throat.

"It's okay, Daryl. You don't have to worry about that right now. Or about what's going to happen, or protecting everyone, or keeping things together. It's going to be ok, I promise," Paul whispers hoarsely, one hand rising to grip tight at the nape of Daryl's neck. Daryl's breathing is quick and unsteady but he's listening.

"It's such a fucked up situation and we're all doing our best. We're all trying so hard to survive. To keep our friends and family safe, our communities standing. No one can blame you for that, no one ever will."

If there's one thing Paul has no doubt about, it's that Daryl will always be the one standing between his family and danger. And being a soldier and protector always had a price, one that is much heavier than mere sweat and blood spilled.

"Feel like I'm goin' crazy," Daryl mutters, head hanging low. Paul slides his hand down Daryl's arm until their fingers entwine, and it's like a permission granted because, in a stuttering motion, Daryl settles an arm on Paul's waist. The warmth radiating from his palm spreads all the way to Paul's chest and belly.

"Hey," Paul says, catching Daryl's gaze with his, "You're not alone. We'll figure this out together."

Daryl stares at him like… like he's someone precious. Like Paul is a safe haven, a glass of water to a parched throat, unexpected and bewildering but incredibly welcome. Like Paul is saving him just by being here, merely by existing. No one has ever looked at Paul that way. He had friends and acquaintances and lovers, sure, but none of those relationships had the sort of intensity Daryl can show, be the _cause_ _of_ , in just one look. It's almost scary, this emotional feedback loop they're in. But it's also heady, and intoxicating, and exhilarating. It makes Paul want to move mountains for Daryl, protect and save him at all costs.

Losing Daryl before would have been a tragedy, but now? Now, it doesn't even bear thinking about.

"Daryl, there's one thing I need you to do. Just one, okay?" Paul says, urgent, imploring, tucking Daryl's hair behind his ear gently. Daryl frowns.

" _You have to live_. Okay? I _need_ you to live. Because if you don't, if you _die_ ," Paul chokes hard on the word, heart beating so wildly it hurts his ribcage, "I will _lose my mind_ , I swear to _god_."

The shiver that goes through his entire body surprises Paul. He never knew emotion could trigger an actual physical reaction, it's not something he ever experienced. He stores the information away in a distant corner of his brain for later perusal.

Daryl's ducks his head again but nods, pulling Paul closer with the arm around his waist, as if Paul is a lucky charm that can chase away horrible thoughts just by being there.

"Okay," he whispers, "Okay. I won't die, I promise."

"Okay," Paul nods in confirmation, leaning his head on Daryl's shoulder, a relieved sigh escaping. Like it's a done deal now -- Daryl can't die, he promised.

"You too," Daryl adds. "You gotta live, too. _Promise._ "

"I promise," Paul vows.

There's no way to know what the future brings. Thinking that either of them have any control over it is ridiculous and dangerous. But it means something, merely saying the words. They're in this together now, they have another reason to fight on top of their families, friends, communities.

They have a future to hope for, and Paul will be damned if anyone takes it away from him. He didn't have this before the apocalypse and it's a complete fucking miracle that he stumbled upon it now, but he's not giving it up. There is no chance in heaven or hell of that happening.

He'll burn down the world first.

_That's_ a promise.


End file.
